Inside Italia
by J.E.McCormickGal
Summary: There's a veil that covers the Italian family. In some places it's thin, others, too thick to see through. And beneath this veil, the Italians are not the happy family they seem to be... Fuller summary inside. Rated T unless I am advised otherwise.
1. Romano: Insecurity

**Inside Italia**

_Romano is insecure._

_Sicily feels like he's living under everyone's shadow._

_Sardinia is torn between two personalities._

_Vaticano is still living in the Renaissance._

_San Marino can't let go of old grudges._

_Seborga can't do anything to stop his brother's fighting._

_Veneziano blames himself for all of it._

_Beneath the veil, the Italian family really isn't as happy and perfect as it seems..._

=X=

**Inside Italia  
>Romano – Insecurity<strong>

~~::.::~~

Romano scowls as Spain pulls him into a quick hug, and places a gentle, fleeting kiss on his temple. He grabs his hand, trying to silently plead for the other to stay. Spain just grins back at him.

"Don't worry, mi Lovi! I'll see you soon, si? Friday, I promise." He laughs. He takes hold of Romano's face, and kisses him quickly; one to the forehead, one on each cheek, and one to his lips. After that, he turns, and flounces over to where France and Prussia are waiting, and the three walk away together. Spain doesn't turn back to wave.

"Fratello!" Veneziano's cheerful voice calls him, and he turns to see his brothers all waiting for him. Vaticano is glowering, Sicily is playing with the rim of his hat, Sardinia is twitching slightly as she seems to have an inner battle about whether to smile or frown, Seborga is bouncing happily and pulling at Veneziano's sleeve, and San Marino watches over all of them. Veneziano waves him over, still grinning.

Grudgingly, after a last peek over his shoulder, he follows them.

~~::.::~~

The southern Italian plays carefully with the cuffs of his shirt, staring down at his hands. The frown usually present has fallen off his face like the mask it acts as, and exposed an expression of complete and utter vulnerability. His brow creases slightly in uncertainly, and his eyes flicker nervously.

Romano hasn't spoken to his brothers at all for hours; since the meeting ended. He retreated to his room as soon as they returned to their house. He curled into himself and proceeded to try and piece himself back together.

The questions take over his mind again.

_Why didn't he look back? He always looks back; he always waves, until he's dragged away. He never just turns away and leaves. Does... does that mean he doesn't want me anymore?_

Romano shivers at the thought, whimpering quietly in the back of his throat.

_What did I do? Maybe he finally realised just how useless I am. He probably realised I'm not as good as he is.__ He probably realised I'm not as good as my brothers. He probably saw how much better Veneziano is. Maybe he likes Veneziano more?_

Romano flinches, hit hard by the words his mind throws at him.

_That must be it. Everyone always likes Veneziano better. He's just staying with me to keep Veneziano close. He's waiting until he finds a way to explain it to Veneziano, and then he'll leave me. He'll leave and forget me._

A tear runs fast down his cheek.

_It's better for him. He'll be happier with Veneziano. Veneziano smiles and laughs and plays. Veneziano has a handsome face, and a perfect body. He'll be able to go out with Veneziano, and not feel ashamed to have someone like me at his side. He'll be happy with Veneziano._

Still the tears cascade, soaking into his sleeves and trousers where they fall. He doesn't bother to try and wipe them away.

_What was I thinking, that I could be happy? I'm not a good enough person to be happy. It's just a temporary arrangement, to tease me. I'm shown happiness so it can be ripped away and rubbed in my face. I don't really deserve to be happy. Look at me. Look at me._

Romano glances up and stares at himself in the mirror opposite. He sees an insignificant, weak, flawed man looking back. His hands clench tightly at his wrists.

_Why did Veneziano get it all? The talent, the looks, the personality? Why should Veneziano have all I want, without even trying? Why should Veneziano be able to take my happiness from me? It's not fair._

He lashes out violently, only striking his pillow, but still determined to hit something. He punches it again, and lets a quiet, choked cry escape his lips. Then he collapses onto his bed, burying his face in the battered pillow and crying.

~~::.::~~

Dinner in the Italian household is tense. Romano glowers fiercely at everyone, arguing violently at even the slightest provocation. San Marino has had to separate him and Vaticano at least four times, and is now keeping them under close watch. Seborga has a sad look on his face as he half-heartedly eats his pasta. Even Veneziano isn't as bright and bubbly as he usually is.

Under the scowl, Romano is fretting about tomorrow. Friday means Spain would be coming to see him and usually take him back to his house for the weekend. The Italian is too busy worrying that tomorrow would be the last day he would be with Spain, and wondering what he would do after.

_If Spain doesn't want me...no one will. Maybe I should just stay home. Maybe I should disappear somewhere. I'm sure Santo and Piero would be happy about that..._

"Veh, fratello Spagna is coming to get you tomorrow, isn't he Roma?" Veneziano asks, smiling at his older brother. He knows Spain was one of the few people who made him happy. However, at this Romano's reaction is startling to him.

"Fuck off, what should you care, idiota?" Romano snaps angrily, hunching his shoulders defensively.

"Romano, don't talk to Veneziano like that." San Marino steps in, trying to prevent a fight before it happens, though he's scowling too now.

"You can shut the fuck up as well Santo!" Romano rounds on his older brother, hating him for standing up for Veneziano like always.

"Romano watch your mouth!" Vaticano shouts, standing next to San Marino. Romano growls, feeling ganged up on.

"You can't tell me what to do bastard! Leave me alone!" he yells.

Seborga whimpers quietly, but no-one really hears him. Veneziano has shrunk down in his seat, tears gathering in his eyes. Sicily sits still with an icy glare fixed on his brothers. Sardinia seems to be confident of her emotions for the first time, scowling down at her plate.

Romano glares for a moment at his brothers, before violently swiping his plate off the table, sending the remnants of his food flying and making the plate smash loudly.

"Fuck all of you!" he screams, using anger to cover his sadness as usual, and storms off, purposefully knocking hard into Veneziano, making him fall off his chair, and throwing something small at San Marino and Vaticano. He shuts himself in his room and doesn't resurface for the rest of the day.

~~::.::~~

Spain walks happily up the drive to the house Romano resides in with his siblings. This weekend he plans to take Romano away to a really nice luxury holiday home, right by the beaches that are usually quite a walk away from his house. He is looking forward to seeing the rare little smile on Romano's face, the one he knows only himself and Romano's family have ever seen, and even then, the Italian brothers had probably seen it less than he had.

He knocks on the door, and soon a happy, bouncy Veneziano has answered, along with a little happy, bouncy Seborga.

"Hola, Feli! Hola Seborga!" Spain smiles. Veneziano laughs happily and hugs him.

"Ciao, fratello Spain!" is the response, as usual. Seborga joins in the hug too, and Spain returns the embrace happily. Once he's been invited in, he spots Sicily and Sardinia lazing on a sofa.

"Hola, Sicily, Sardinia." He greets them, his tone still happy and friendly. Sardinia replies with a flash of a bright smile, before turning away to frown at the opposite wall. Sicily seems to go a little pink when Spain notices him, but scowls and turns away coldly all the same.

"Is that Spain?" a rather grumpy sounding voice asks from the direction of the kitchen, and San Marino appears, scowl stuck on his face. Spain's smile falters slightly and he takes just a tiny step back. San Marino has a real problem with him, and he knows it.

"Si, it's me. I'm looking for mi Romanito." Spain chuckles nervously. San Marino grunts.

"He's sulking in his room." He mutters sourly, glaring up at the ceiling. At Spain's side, Seborga deflates slightly with a whimper, and Veneziano flinches discreetly. Spain doesn't seem to notice, instead smiling brightly.

"I'll go and get him, then I can be out of your hair. Adios!" Spain gives a tiny wave before quickly turning and flouncing up the stairs towards Romano's room.

"Roma~. Mi Lovi~. Españga is here~!" he coos happily. However, as he draws closer to Romano's door, he hears a choked sob and shuddering breaths. Instantly, his carefree attitude evaporates, his voice loses its floating tone and his smile is replaced by worry.

"Romano? Mi amor?" he asks gently as he pushes the wooden barrier out of his way.

The sight that meets his eyes is something he wished he'd never see. The whole room has been torn up and destroyed; old posters have been thrown across the floor, the bedside table has been thrown to the side, the mirror usually atop it smashed against the opposite wall, a few shards giving red glints from blood-covered edges. Romano is curled up on his bed, body shaking with barely-suppressed sobs, the nails of one bloody, cut hand digging roughly into the skin of the other arm, scratching shallow gouges into his wrist. He is crying to himself in Italian, broken and cracked as it escapes his lips.

"Romano!" Spain cries worriedly, wasting no time in dashing over to be beside his boyfriend. Romano tenses and his sobbing increases almost tenfold. Spain pries his hand away from his arm, before pulling the Italian quickly to his chest. "Stop that, amor. Dios mio, Romano, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Mi dispiace! Mi d-dispiace! Mi dispiace, io non sono b-bravo abbastanza per voi. Mi dispiace ti sto tenere lontano da V-Veneziano. Ti prego,n-n-non lasciarmi. Farò qualsiasi cosa! Diventerò come molto simile Veneziano che p-posso! Smetterò di urlare e farò meglio a compiti e i-io anche sorridere e cantare e fare altre cose s-stupide se volete! Mi dispiace sto b-brutto e orribile, ma per favore, perdonami! Non lasciarmi!" Romano cries frantically into his shirt, grasping desperately at the fabric. He chokes on the tears and words as they spill, and still he shakes, like a leaf in gusty wind. Spain doesn't understand all of what was just screamed at him, but he gets enough.

_I'm sorry. I'll do anything. I'll be like Veneziano. _

_I'm ugly and horrible. Please forgive me._

_Don't leave me._

"Amor! Roma, Roma, hush. Stop apologising. You've done nothing wrong." Spain comforts, still shocked. That was what Romano thought of himself?

"I-I'm not good enough. Mi dispiace, mi dispiace..."

"Romano." Spain's voice is firm. "Stop it."

Still Romano chants apologies into his chest, whispering them under his ragged breaths. Spain pulls him away and shakes him slightly.

"Basta, ahora. Ahora, Romano." He commands, forcing the smaller man to look at him. Romano's words die on his lips, and instead he stares at Spain, whimpering and crying.

"Amor, what are you crying about? You've done nothing, you don't have to do anything. You're _my_ Romanito, and I don't want you any other way. I don't want you like Veneziano, I want you like _you_. Please, stop crying, amor." Spain stares deep into the olive-gold of his love's eyes, reddened and swollen from crying, and says every word with sincerity.

"P-please don't leave me. Please, p-please, per favore, por favor..." Romano can't help the words that sputter from his mouth. His hands grip tightly at Spain's wrists, and he ignores the pain from the scratches, trying to keep him close. Spain looks sadly at him.

"I'd never leave you, Romano. Never. Look at me; I'm not going anywhere. I will not go unless you want me to. You are beautiful, wonderful, loving, sexy, cute – you're everything, Romano. You're _my_ everything. Te amo. Te amo y siempre lo haré." Spain assures him, trying to sooth his fears.

"E ti amo! Ti amo, ti amo...per favore, Spagna..." Romano cries, desperate to keep hold of what he thinks he is losing, and pushes his face into the warmth of Spain's hands. Spain sighs and scoops Romano into his arms again, cradling him gently. The Italian continues to cry, unable to calm down from the state he's worked himself into.

Spain looks up at a noise from the door; Veneziano is staring, wide-eyed, looking around the room before settling his sight on his brother, pressed tightly to Spain's chest. He opens his mouth to speak, but is stopped by a fierce look from the older nation. Spain has never glared or shown anger to Veneziano, but now, his eyes are hard and full of danger – his lip twitches in an almost-snarl and his whole look yells '_Don't say a word. Get out._' in warning. Veneziano scurries away as fast as he can, choosing not to aggravate Spain while he's in protective mode.

~~::.::~~

It takes a while, but soon Romano has cried himself to exhaustion. He sleeps tensely against Spain's chest, his cheeks red and damp from his onslaught of tears. Spain has refused to move, instead just swaying gently until the sobs subsided. He knows Romano would hate for his brothers to have seen him so weak, so he stayed in the wreckage of his room. After Veneziano had scuttled off, no-one else had come upstairs to check on the other brother.

Carefully, the older nation checks his lover over. His hands are cut and bleeding, presumably from hitting and throwing the mirror. His head has a bump and a bruise forming, perhaps from where Romano has thrown himself into the wall angrily. He has a bleeding bite-mark on his knuckles – Spain knows, when he's angry or upset and trying not to yell and scream, Romano bites his knuckles. Obviously he bit too hard this time. And down his left wrist he has three shallow gouges, scratched by his nails; two are quite minor, just chicken-scratches that have taken away the top few layers of his lightly tanned skin. The third is deep enough for blood to seep lazily from it.

Spain sighs and lifts the sleeping Italian carefully, and carries him out into the corridor and down the stairs. Romano's head presses against the crook between Spain's neck and shoulder, still whimpering under his breath. As he walks past the archway to the front room, Spain catches a glance of San Marino talking moodily to an upset looking Veneziano. Vaticano is stood scowling as well. The other three are nowhere to be seen.

The Spanish man simply continues to his car, so he can set his Roma down and drive him home. The fancy sea-side place will have to wait; for now, Spain just needs to get them both to a house by themselves. Carefully, the older nation lays Romano in the passenger seat and straps him in. He hears stomping footsteps behind him, and turns to see a near-livid Santo storming over to him. The raging Italian hits out at his arm and pushes him backwards.

"What did you _do_ to him? Where are you taking him?" he demands angrily. Spain frowns back.

"I'm taking him home." He responds, trying to keep calm.

"You think I'm letting you take him again? What the fuck did you do to make him cry, bastardo?" San Marino is obviously furious, because usually he controls his language much better, even around Spain. Even so, his accusations sting Spain, who starts responding to fire with fire.

"You think I did anything to him? _Niño_, you do not know me. I would never hurt him." Spain spits back. "I found him in his room like this. Do you know what _you_, his _brothers_, have let him do? Let him think?"

Spain lets his lip curl and his bright green eyes darken and throw hatred in the older brother's direction.

"Adios, _niño_." He growls, pushing roughly past the other nation and he quickly climbs into the other door of his car, starts the ignition, and reverses out of the drive. San Marino stares at him, in shock, hurt and anger in his eyes. Veneziano appears at the doorway just in time to see Spain's car. He runs after it for a moment, calling desperately.

"Mi dispiace! Fratello, Spagna, mi dispiace_! Mi dispiace..."_

~~::.::~~

_A/N: And so ends the first chapter of this wonderfully angsty story. Hurrah!  
>And I'm not dead~! YAY~!<br>Sorry, I've been really shit with writing anything that actually gets finished recently... here's hoping this'll be different!_

_Okay, just a few notes;_

_-Romano wasn't purposefully hurting himself. Maybe subconsciously, but mainly he was just trying to hold himself together, and I know one of the things I do is cling to whatever I can, often my own arms. He's simply so desperate to hold on that he ends up injuring himself._

_-Spain wasn't really angry at Veneziano. Mostly, he was trying to save Romano embarrassment by not letting him know his brother had seen him in a weak state. It was just that he was so angry with what had happened to Romano, a warning glance turned into a glare. On the other hand, he got seriously pissed off with San Marino, because he couldn't believe none of them had noticed how upset Romano was before, and for blaming Romano's upset on him._

_-Spain uses 'Niño' as an insult – basically calling Santo a child, to make a point of how much older he is as a nation. He's trying to stress that Santo is clueless and knows nothing, or at least not as much as he does, especially about his own brother._

_Translations:_

_**Mi dispiace!**__** Mi d-dispiace**__**! **__**Mi dispiace**__**, io **__**non sono b-bravo**____**abbastanza per voi.**____**Mi dispiace**____**ti sto**____**tenere lontano da**__** V-**__**Veneziano**__**. **__**Ti prego,n-n-non lasciarmi**__**. **__**Farò**____**qualsiasi cosa!**____**Diventerò**____**come**____**molto simile**____**Veneziano**____**che p-posso**__**! **__**Smetterò di**____**urlare**____**e farò**____**meglio a**____**compiti**____**e i-io**____**anche**____**sorridere**____**e cantare**____**e fare altre**____**cose s-stupide**____**se volete!**____**Mi dispiace**____**sto**__** b-**__**brutto e**____**orribile**__**, ma per favore, perdonami! **__**Non lasciarmi**__**!**_ – _I'm sorry! I'm s-sorry! I'm sorry, I'm not g-good enough for you. I'm sorry I'm keeping you away from V-Veneziano. Please, d-d-don't leave me. I'll do anything! I'll become as much like Veneziano as p-possible! I'll stop yelling and do chores better and I-I can laugh and sing and do other stupid things! I'm sorry I'm u-ugly and horrible, but please, forgive me! Don't leave me!_

_**Basta, ahore. Ahore, Romano**__ – Stop, now. Now, Romano._

_**Niño**__ – Child_

_Reviews will be GREATLY appreciated! I'd love to hear what you thing of the story, the concept, this chapter, everything! And it'll also motivate me to keep writing, at the moment I've gone back to just writing, then not uploading and losing motivation... I miss getting reviews and hearing what people think of my stories D:_


	2. Sicily: Inferiority

**Inside Italia**

_Romano is insecure._

_Sicily feels like he's living under everyone's shadow._

_Sardinia is torn between two personalities._

_Vaticano is still living in the Renaissance._

_San Marino can't let go of old grudges._

_Seborga can't do anything to stop his brother's fighting._

_Veneziano blames himself for all of it._

_Beneath the veil, the Italian family really isn't as happy and perfect as it seems..._

=X=

**Inside Italia  
>Sicily – Inferiority<strong>

~~::.::~~

Sicily barely moves as San Marino storms back in, his face red from anger, Veneziano trailing sadly behind. He knows that Romano has been taken away by Spain, and he somewhat suspects they won't be getting him back for a while either. Vaticano has a grimace on his features, and Sicily can tell what he's thinking. It makes him flinch slightly.

"He can't just take him away! Dammit, I won't let him steal Romano from us again!" San Marino growls. Vaticano gives him a look, reprimanding him silently for the language.

Seborga has come to seek refuge with his brother and sister, curling up between them and watching the two elders. Sicily does his best to comfort him, by placing one hand over his brother's, but Seborga barely seems to notice and quickly leaves to hide behind Veneziano instead. Sicily frowns, hurt by the lack of acknowledgment, and averts his eyes from his family.

San Marino is still ranting and Vaticano is adding his own input. Veneziano is hugging Seborga, and he's pulled Sardinia over with him, but Sicily is just left there to scowl by himself. He plays with the rim of his hat, the one Romano gave him, and pulls it a little further over his eyes.

If Romano was here, he'd be yelling at them to shut the fuck up. But he's not, so he can't. So they continue to shout and rage about Spain.

"Feli!" San Marino suddenly barks, drawing the attention of the youngest twin. "Spain likes you, right? You can go and talk to him. Get Romano to come back. Right, fratellino?"

San Marino has advanced slightly on Veneziano, and the younger Italian has backed away slightly.

"I-I don't know, Santo..." he stutters. He doesn't want to upset San Marino more, nor does he want to be the one trying to talk to Spain or trying to persuade Romano to return.

Sicily can see why. It's been a long time since he and Romano lived with Spain as children, but he still remembers it. He remembers Romano's secret smiles, whenever Spain smiled at him, praised him. He remembers Spain's doting on his brother. He remembers the fire that would ignite in the Spaniard's eyes whenever his Romano was threatened, the anger that rose when his Romano was hurt. And he recognises it.

Once again, Spain has saved Romano and left Sicily behind. He'd seen him earlier, he'd greeted him earlier – his bright smile, it still made Sicily's heart skip a beat when it was directed at him – but he'd been forgotten for Romano. Again. Like always.

San Marino is apparently so happy to have them back, for them to be a family. Everyone agrees with him. But really, Sicily would much rather go back with Spain and Romano. His brothers fought, and his brothers forgot and ignored him. Of course, Spain ignored or forgot him sometimes too, but Romano didn't. Not as often as the others.

Sicily slips out of the room, as usual, unnoticed.

~~::.::~~

For days, the atmosphere in the house is sour. There's shouting and upset. Veneziano has his face buried in his arms a lot of the time. Seborga is creeping around quietly, clinging to Veneziano whenever possible. Vaticano seems to be constantly muttering prayers to his rosary, and the mention of Spain and Romano makes him wince, though this happens rarely since it also causes San Marino to explode. Sardinia no longer looks torn between a sweet smile and a deep frown; if she's not glaring death at people or things, she looks scared out of her wits.

Sicily just sits and watches. He tried to talk to Veneziano days earlier, but he was brushed off with a tired 'Not now, Sicily.'. He tried to help Seborga, but his little brother just shook his head and muttered 'Nothing is the same anymore, fratello.'. He went to see Sardinia, and she screamed at him to 'Go the fuck away, idiota!'.

So now Sicily just stands to the side and watches his family tear themselves up as they try to put themselves together. He goes to the meeting with them, as usual, and the tension is so thick when they arrive and Spain is there, alone, that he cannot bear to be around them. He watches over Seborga as he sits and talks to the other micros, Sealand and Wy, and can't help but wonder how the little boy who has been walking around as if afraid to step on a mine can still be so loud and boisterous with his friends.

"Hey, Sicily."

Sicily looks up at the soft voice. Shetland smiles gently at him, and sits on the seat to his left. Shetland is the only person who notices him outside of his house; she's usually charged with the task of watching her little brother, Sealand, so they often end up in the same place for the whole meeting. He nods his head at her silently, to show he's heard her.

"How are you?" she asks, as she normally does.

"'M 'kay." Sicily mumbles. He doesn't want to put his family's problems on her. Even so, he's silently happy that she bothers enough to enquire; after all, most people barely greet him, let alone start conversation.

"Really? You look a little upset." Shetland frowns delicately, her lips pouting slightly. "And Romano isn't here. Is he alright?"

Sicily flinches non-too discreetly. He frowns and pulls his hat low over his eyes.

"I'm fine. We're fine. Just leave it alone." He replies. Shetland bats her eyes at him in surprise, but doesn't say anything otherwise. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and they sit there in silence, watching their brothers racing around and laughing.

~~::.::~~

Sicily watches as Veneziano returns again, tears in his eyes, apologising for still not being able to talk to Spain or Romano. San Marino sits with his head in his hands, growling lowly and getting louder, and Seborga bolts from the room.

"I-I'm sorry, he just doesn't want to talk... R-Romano's fine, he was calling for Spain in the background, b-but fratello, I don't think I should go anymore..." Veneziano stutters, pulling his coat tighter to try and hide himself within it.

"I don't care if he doesn't _want_ to talk. He needs to be here, and Spain can't force him to stay _there_." Santo hisses.

"I don't think Spain is forcing him to do anything." Sicily says, but none of his brothers pay much attention.

"We didn't have these problems until Spain showed up." Vaticano still keeps a serenely calm look about him, but his expression is cold and his eyes hard. "Spain has been luring and tempting our brother away with his unclean intentions for years. Now he's finally succeeded in stealing our fratellino away from us, so that he can do with him what he pleases."

Sicily feels himself getting more and more annoyed with Vaticano's dumb ranting. He's always been so against Spain and Romano, he'd been angry at Holy Roman Empire before... and he's still the same. He doesn't know anything, and yet he just keeps going on about it.

"It's not like that. Spain hasn't been _luring_ or _tempting_ Romano into anything. You don't know what he's like." Sicily says, louder, standing up to make himself seen, make himself heard. He doesn't want to be ignored anymore.

"Sicily, you're as disillusioned as Romano is." Vaticano brushes him off casually, turning away as if to dismiss him.

"I'm not _disillusioned_. What if Romano wants to stay with Spain, huh?" Sicily shoots back angrily.

"Why would he want to stay with that basta-" San Marino starts, but Sicily cuts across him.

"I would!" For a moment, Vaticano and San Marino stare at him. He huffs. "Spain's place is much nicer. There's no fighting there. He doesn't have to put up with _you two_" Sicily glares at his older brothers, getting the point across. "-looking down on him. I think we should let him stay with Spain. He'll be happier there."

For a moment, San Marino and Vaticano just stare at him. For a moment, he thinks maybe he's gotten through to them. Then San Marino turns away from him, completely ignoring him, like he's invisible, and says firmly to Veneziano "You're going again tomorrow."

Sicily, red-faced from the embarrassment of having been completely blown off by his brother, storms out of the room, kicking the table as he goes.

~~::.::~~

The next week goes in much the same way. Veneziano still has no luck in convincing Spain to talk to him long enough to say anything other than "Leave, he doesn't want to talk." and now he's starting to beg Santo to stop making him go. Sicily constantly tries to persuade them to just let Romano be, but every time he is purposely ignored.

Now, all he wants to do is get out of the house. He grabs his coat and purposefully leaves his phone behind, so none of his brothers can contact him. If they even try to contact him. He doesn't care. He darts quickly out of the door, and he's free, as far as he can tell. No-one runs after him, and he's glad of that.

He sets off walking. He's not entirely conscious of where he's going, but he gets the feeling he's probably heading somewhere. For now, he just enjoys the cool air outside, the sun gently warming his face, the free, tensionless atmosphere that isn't filled with angry shouts and agitated cries.

Sicily looks up, and recognises the house he's stopped at instantly. He debates whether to knock, or if he should just turn away. But he knows why he's here. He'd much rather be here, than with his brothers. So he lifts his fist and knocks, and waits for the answer.

When Spain comes to the door, he's not the usual overly-smiley, carefree and happy Spain. His eyebrows are knitted together in a frown, his lips pursed slightly, and his eyes are dark.

"You should tell your brothers" Spain starts, in an unfamiliar and cold voice "That sending someone other than Veneziano will not work any better."

"I'm not here for my brothers!" Sicily cuts across desperately. "I just want to talk to Romano!"

"You can't, and neither will any of your brothers, nor Sardinia either if they get that idea."

"But why?" Sicily is upset that Spain doesn't seem to have heard him, but he persists.

"You wouldn't understand. You don't understand what you've done to your own brother. Now go back home." Spain practically growls, and he shuts the door in Sicily's face. For a moment the Italian just stands there in shock, before he walks away, head down in defeat.

~~::.::~~

Sicily can't help but feel restless the next day. He wants to talk to someone. Usually he'd talk to Romano, who he was closest to, but... he couldn't, because somehow they'd managed to upset him to the point of breaking, and Spain was on the protective. He'd never turn to Vaticano, because they don't get on well, and though he might go to San Marino if desperate enough, he was in too much of a mood.

He sighs, and pulls his hat lower over his eyes, relaxing back into the settee in the for once quiet living room. He looks over and notices Seborga creeping in through the archway.

The youngest sibling has been wearing the same nervous expression for weeks, only masking it with an attempted bright smile when he needs to. He's starting to remind Sicily of Corsica; shrunk into himself with darting eyes, prone to jumping at the slightest noise.

"Oi, Seborga." He calls gently, and as expected Seborga flinches slightly, looking sharply at his older brother. Sicily holds his hand out, gesturing him over. "Come sit with me."

Seborga walks over, looking a bit quizzical; Sicily usually isn't so open about wanting to be near his siblings, and definitely isn't gentle what he is. Even so, he sits carefully beside him and looks over expectantly.

"Ponzio... are you alright?" Sicily asked quietly. Seborga blinks in surprise at the careful, gentle tone and use of his human name.

"Wh-what?"

"I know it's a sort of stupid question but... still. There's something bothering you, am I right?" Sicily rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, and pulls at the brim of his hat. He's not used to being close and affectionate with his siblings, but he wants to talk to them; even if it means just listening to his little brother's problems and not voicing his own. He wants to know he does still exist to them.

Seborga fidgets slightly, playing with his fingers and looking at the floor. Sicily faces him completely, letting him know he's there, he's listening; something his family seems to forget to do around him.

"I don't like the fighting." He mumbles eventually. In that moment Sicily can see the ten-year-old boy Seborga really is; yes, he's a nation and yes, he has a strong spirit, but he's still a child and he can be upset.

"I know. I don't like it either." Sicily replies gently. Seborga looks up, disbelieving, and shakes his head.

"You don't get it. You're not little like I am. They shut up when you tell them to." Sicily thinks that obviously, Seborga is mistaking him for Romano and 'telling' them to shut up is the same as yelling your head off at them.

"No-one can shut up Santo and Piero when they get started – you know how they are." Sicily tries to smirk, but it comes out as a grim smile. "But they'll calm down eventually. And then when Roma is better, maybe everyone can make up."

Sicily is lying through his teeth and in the back of his mind, he knows it. While San Marino may eventually stop shouting and flaring up, he keeps grudges for years, and he'll still be angry. When, and Sicily refuses to think if because Romano _has_ to get better, he _has to..._ When Romano gets better, there is no way Spain will ever let him out of his sight. Relationships will be strained at the most. And come to the worst...

But Sicily tries to keep a look of utter confidence on his face, to comfort Seborga. But maybe something shows through his eyes, because Seborga starts shaking his head again, starting to rise.

"Y-you don't understand." Seborga tells him, tears starting to brim in his eyes, and he bolts, leaving Sicily alone and hurt.

~~::.::~~

That evening, Sicily walks into the room he still shares with Sardinia; the two had been relatively close when they were young, since they were the same age, and had shared a room with Corsica when he still lived with them, and they'd simply kept it that way. Sicily still had the top bunk of the bed Corsica was constantly afraid would fall on him, and Sardinia still slept in the bed on the other side of the room.

Sardinia is sat on the bottom bunk, hands gripping tightly at the covers, hard enough for her whole body to shake. Her lips move soundlessly and her eyes are screwed tightly shut.

"Sardinia?" Sicily asks, frowning. When his sister doesn't respond, he tries again. "Sorella? Ey, Valeria!"

Sardinia jumps and stares at him. Emotions flicker over her face before she scowls.

"Don't call me that." She hisses at him. "What do you want?"

Sicily winces, knowing that his sister is having one of her turns and will be in a crazy mood for a while. He doesn't like it when she suddenly turns fierce and cold, and right now she seems to have more of the former.

"Nothing." He replies quickly. Usually the best thing to do, he has learnt, is to just leave Sardinia be. She narrows her eyes.

"Well, why the fuck are you up here so early?" she snaps back, standing up to perch on her own bed.

"I'm tired." Sicily shrugs. He really is. He's tired of having to put up with all the shit going on, he's tired of being ignored, but he's physically tired as well. He just wants to sleep it off.

"Tired!" Sardinia laughs harshly. "You don't even _know_ how tired I am!"

"Tired of what?" Although Sicily is weary, he still tries to strike up conversation; maybe Sardinia will calm down. Her sharp look dulls and she looks away from him.

"Everything. Just everything. I'm tired of all of this." She sighs, and raises a hand to her forehead. For a moment her face screws up, as if she's trying not to cry, and Sicily moves closer to put an arm around his _sorellina_. Her reaction is violent, and it startles him.

"_Don't touch me!_" she yells, hitting his arm off her and shoving him back. Sicily scrambles for a moment, hitting into the bunk-bed's ladder and backing up it slightly.

"I was only trying to help..." he murmurs, once again hurt that his sibling didn't want to talk to him – were they really so against him...?

"Help? You can't help me." Sardinia growls through clenched teeth. "You don't understand _anything_ of what I'm going through. You don't understand _anything_."

With that, Sardinia grabs her nightwear and storms from the room, slamming the door loudly behind her. Sicily sighs and climbs up into his bed, carefully taking off his hat and changing into his pyjamas.

~~::.::~~

Sicily turns over again. It must be the middle of the night, and no matter how much he tries, the Italian just can't settle down to sleep. He can hear Sardinia murmuring incomprehensible words in her sleep, and the rustle of her bed-sheets every time she moves.

Carefully, Sicily sits himself up. Sardinia appears to be fast asleep, curled tightly in a ball and facing the wall, her back resolutely turned to Sicily. Keeping an eye on her to make sure he doesn't rouse her (because he really does not want to wake Sardinia up...), he climbs down from the bunk and pads softly out of the room.

Outside his room, in the corridor, the air is cooler and Sicily shivers slightly. His bare feet barely make a sound as he creeps carefully past Vaticano and San Marino's rooms and across the hall to Veneziano's room.

Veneziano's room is actually relatively unused; it had once been shared between Romano and Veneziano, before Romano decided to get his own room, and after that Veneziano would regularly ditch his own bed to creep in with Romano or occasionally San Marino.

Tonight however, Veneziano's room is in use, and Sicily can see his older brother's form underneath the blankets. He tiptoes slightly closer, and whispers tentatively.

"Veneziano?"

"Mm?" comes the replying mumble. Apparently Veneziano wasn't sleeping too well either, because he is usually a very heavy sleeper and barely anything could wake him up. Sicily carefully crawls onto the bed and slips under the covers, next to his brother. Veneziano blinks sleepily at him.

"Sicily? Are you okay?" he murmurs, raising a hand to place it on Sicily's arm. The smaller brother makes a small negative noise in the back of his throat and shakes his head slightly.

"I... I don't like how angry Santo and Vaticano are." He replies at length. Veneziano sighs.

"None of us do, Giovanni. But there's not a lot we can really do about it I'm afraid."

"But why are they so mad?" Sicily's voice rises slightly. "Why do they have such a problem with Roma and Spagna? I know Vaticano is a stuck up bastard, but why does San Marino hate him so much?"

Veneziano seems to think for a moment, but eventually he just shakes his head.

"I don't think you'd really understand, Gio. It's complicated." He says, and he sounds extremely tired – not usual for Veneziano, usually so full of life and vigour.

"Tell me! I can understand it! I want to know, dammit!" Sicily cries. Veneziano can't do this to him too...

"Dispiace, ma no, fratellino. Just try to sleep. I don't want to talk about this right now." Sicily can hear the strain in Veneziano's voice, showing that the topic is just as painful to him as it is to Sicily, but it still hurts that his brother won't tell him. He pulls away from Veneziano's comforting hand and curls up away from him, frowning slightly.

In his mind, it all clicks into place. They all think he can't understand them; they don't understand him. They see straight through him and ignore him, they brush him off and act like his thoughts and opinions and feelings don't matter.

Well then. He doesn't care. They were all fuckers anyway. Two can play that game.

He ignores Veneziano's quiet goodnight.

They don't want to see him? Well he won't see them either.

~~::.::~~

Early the next morning, Sicily blinks his eyes open. Veneziano is asleep beside him, and has moved in his sleep to be curling close to his brother; one arm draped over the younger's torso and his face buried in his back. Sicily frowns and pries himself away, pulling himself from the warmth of the covers and quickly walking out of the room. He peeks around his bedroom door, and Sardinia is still asleep; now more relaxed and splayed slightly. He pulls on a loose shirt and some casual trousers, and pads downstairs to the kitchen. He leaves his hat behind, deciding that it was so early that there's no way anyone would see him before he went back to bed.

Sicily fills a glass with water and swigs from it, letting his mind think about everything that has happened in the past few weeks. And to think not long ago, he was annoyed as usual with his brothers, but he was still relatively happy with them...

The Italian carefully reaches for a tomato. Usually, taking a tomato from Romano's bowl would get him a slap around the head if he hadn't asked, but if he was forced to think of one up point of Romano not being around, it was that there were more tomatoes. Sicily leans forward against the counter, carefully eating the red fruit and sighing almost happily in the silence.

"Ro...Romano?" a careful, drowsy voice asks from behind him. Instantly, Sicily freezes, his grip on the counter tightening and his whole body going ridged. He can tell that it is a half-awake Veneziano standing behind him, disbelief and a small undertone of hope broadcasting in his words.

Romano isn't here. Sicily is the only one in the kitchen, other than Veneziano. So...

"Fratello!" Sicily feels a pair of arms fling themselves around his shoulders, and Veneziano buries his face in his neck. "Grazie a Dio..."

Before he can say anything else, Sicily throws him off harshly, jabbing an elbow hard into his side and whirling round to push him away.

"I'm not Romano!" he yells, rounding fiercely on his brother. Veneziano's face drops and shows his guilt and horror for all the world to see.

"Oh God... Sicily... Mi dispiace, from behind, you look so..."

"I don't care!" Sicily cries, balling his fists at his side. "You should be able to tell your own brothers apart! What, I'm so insignificant to you that I might as well just be Romano? I'm my own nation! I'm Sicily! I'm your brother, Sicily!"

Behind the anger, Sicily is so, so hurt. His brothers can't even tell him apart from Romano; they can't recognise him as a separate person. Why is he so insignificant? Why does he just fade into the background, becoming a shadow of unheard opinions and unseen gestures? They think he's too young, he won't understand, he can't understand, why won't they understand him...?

"I know! Giovanni, mi dispiace tanto, I'm so, so sorry!" Veneziano tries desperately to fix his mistake, but Sicily just pushes him away, red-faced and trying not to cry.

"You don't understand! None of you understand what it's like, to be ignored, to be forgotten, _you'll never understand!_" Sicily is practically screaming now, and he storms fast up the stairs. He roughly pulls on a proper shirt and clean, smart trousers, and jams his hat hard onto his head, managing to do so without awakening his sister – a miracle, really, but he doesn't think that. He wants her to wake up, to notice he's leaving, to plead him to stop and to stay... but it's like she can't hear his badly suppressed sobs, and she continues to sleep peacefully.

As he tries to run out of the door Veneziano grabs his arm, and he cries and begs Sicily not to leave, not as well, but Sicily just wrenches himself free and sprints away as fast as he can. He runs without direction, without purpose – he just runs, and his tears falls fast from his eyes, but there is no one there to see them.

Sicily feels more alone than ever.

~~::.::~~

_A/N: Here it is guys! The next chapter of our favourite unhappy family~ xD_

_I'm sorry it's so much longer than Romano's, but it needed to be. Sorry if there are mistakes at all, I've checked it over but it may have a few small things. _

_I'm so happy with the feedback I got for this! I'm so glad so many people liked it, and I hope the following chapters live up to the target I set myself. Apparently it had a much stronger impact than I quite expected xD_

_Reviewers will be thanked at the bottom and a few questions answered, but first just a little background._

_As __**Red In The Morning**__ pointed out, most of the brothers are OCs. I'd actually completely forgotten that xD  
>We've developed them so much, and use them so much, that I'd actually forgotten that Sicily and Sardinia and such were OCs. But I'm not going to add anything into the description, because sometimes seeing 'OCs' scares off readers. But I'm glad people like them so far. However, seeing as they are OCs, you guys will need some background info, huh?<em>

_So each chapter about an OC (basically everyone else now until Veneziano xD) with have a little background and description in the A/N down here~ And I'll also have just a general thing._

**Sicily:** Sicily appears about 17, and looks a lot like a younger Romano. He is barely ever seen without his fedora hat _(think Mafiatalia, guys~)_ which was given to him by Romano. Out of his brothers, he gets on with Romano the best, but is at constant conflict with Vaticano. When he was young, he developed a crush on Spain but upon discovering Romano's similar feelings, chose to let Romano pursue his happiness, giving up on his own. He's bisexual and at some point ends up with Shetland _(I imagine this happening sometime after this story has taken place, but that's who we pair him with) _but at the moment, he still has a few lingering feelings for Spain _(this is why Spain noticing him means so much to him)._ Sometimes he considers Spain and Romano more of his true family than his other siblings. Deep down he's insecure, and feels like he is constantly ignored or forgotten, but hides it behind a grumpy exterior. His human name is Giovanni Vargas.

_So there you go! Just a bit of background info for him, so you understand him a bit more. He does seem a lot like a young Romano, and they are extremely similar, but have their differences._

_While we're at it, just to help you visualise the family, here's some brief bits of information:_

**San Marino**_** – **_Santo Vargas, appears around 26. Oldest brother.

**Vaticano** – Piero Vargas, appears about 22. Same age as Romano but acts older.

**Romano **– Lovino Vargas, appears about 22. Same age as Vaticano.

**Veneziano** – Feliciano Vargas, appears about 20. 'Middle' child.

**Sicily** – Giovanni Vargas, appears about 17. Same age as Sardinia and Corsica but seems to act as oldest.

**Sardinia** – Valeria Vargas, appears about 17. Same age as Sicily and Corsica.

**Corsica** (minor character) – Leonardo Vargas, appears about 17. Same age as Sicily and Sardinia, but seems to be treated as the youngest.

**Seborga** – Ponzio Vargas, appears about 10. Youngest child.

_Keep in mind that by 'age' I mean physical age. You can go and work out actual nation ages xD_

_Also, most of these OCs were thought up by my friend __**Meso the Hanyu **__and then developed in conversations between us. So San Marino, Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica and Seborga belong mainly to her, and Mr. Asshole Vaticano belongs mainly to me xD (Can you believe I only came up with him to cause conflict in a Spamano fic I was planning? xD) And obviously Romano and Veneziano belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. Good good, it's important that you know that and give her due credit for her awesome OCs. So if you like them, remember to thank her as well ;D_

_I'm thinking of drawing some illustrations for this story as well, as some more help~ I have one, but it doesn't have Sic or Sardinia and it's a little too happy looking for this xD_

_So, now, to my dear reviewers~~_

_THANK YOU, GRAZIE, LOTS OF LOVE TO THESE AMAZING PEOPLE:_

_Anon. __**Anonymous, ScatteredSands, nekoNamine, MakenshiCrona, JuleBeilschmidt, Red In The Morning, Silan Haye, Bluesoxrox **__and __**Asshu-chan**__! Your reviews mean a lot and I hope you all continue to enjoy the story!_

_**Red In The Morning**__: I'm glad you like the OCs, and thanks for reminding me xD I tried to make sure I wasn't portraying Romano as whiny or total OTT suicidal or anything, I wanted it as realistic as possible and I'm glad I achieved that! I hope you continue to enjoy the story._

_**Silian Haye**__: Similarly, I'm glad you like how I wrote Romano's insecurity. I put a lot of thought into it. And I'm glad our OCs didn't put you off! As you might be able to tell already, it'll focus on a different character each time while following one timeline. However, I'm considering maybe writing a spin-off oneshot or something that just shows Romano, but that'll happen after I've finished this._

_I hope everyone continues to enjoy this story, I hope more people review, and if you want to know more about any of the siblings just ask and I can elaborate! See you next time for Sardinia's chapter ;D_


	3. Sardinia: Conflict

**Inside Italia**

_Romano is insecure._

_Sicily feels like he's living under everyone's shadow._

_Sardinia is torn between two personalities._

_Vaticano is still living in the Renaissance._

_San Marino can't let go of old grudges._

_Seborga can't do anything to stop his brother's fighting._

_Veneziano blames himself for all of it._

_Beneath the veil, the Italian family really isn't as happy and perfect as it seems..._

=X=

**Inside Italia  
>Sardinia - Conflict<strong>

~~::.::~~

Sardinia stretches out her limbs, yawning loudly and wriggling under the covers, slowly awakening and reluctant to get out of the warmth of her bed. She huffs, frowning slightly at the thought of actually having to get up at some point. For now she ignores that.

"Morning, Sic. You awake?" she calls across to the bunk bed. When she looks, though, Sicily is not curled up under his blankets as he was before, but instead the bed is vacant. His pyjamas and 'morning clothes' have been discarded on the floor, which is unusual because he at least puts them on the bed.

_**Well thank fuck, maybe he's done a runner too.**_

Sardinia's insides crawl at the dark thought that passes through her mind, but she shrugs it off. She should really apologise to Sicily for snapping at him, but the stress has been getting to her and she slips more often than before. He'll be sore for weeks if she doesn't.

She stays in bed for a few minutes, warm and hoping that maybe Sicily will wander back and she can apologise to him from the comfort of her cocoon – a win-win situation, really – but he doesn't and eventually she drags herself out, groaning at the change in temperature.

As she pads out onto the landing, she hears muffled crying. There's been a lot of muffled crying in the past few weeks, and some of it has been her own, but for some reason this time it makes her shudder. It's not Seborga's quiet hiccups, it's not Sicily's attempts at deep, calm breathing, and she knows that San Marino never cries audibly, if he cries at all. And she can't imagine him crying now, with the rage he's worked up in.

Whoever is crying is sobbing and hyperventilating, and trying to force out cracked and strained words.

_**Oh joy, more shattering spirits – at this rate they'll all be gone within a month!**_

Sardinia frowns as she treads carefully down the stairs. The sound is coming from the kitchen, and although she partially wants to run to her room and hide under her covers and pretend she hasn't heard one of her brothers, again on the edge of breaking, she also wants to find whoever has been upset.

Her reaction on peering into the kitchen is almost like someone's reaction to finding a dead body sprawled in their room – she gasps, and draws back, and her eyes go wide.

Veneziano is on the floor, one hand covering his mouth to muffle his sobs, the other shaking as it supports him. Tears flow fast from his eyes and he shakes, and his expression looks to be pure horror and guilt.

_Not Veneziano... what happened to his smile...?_

_**It's been cracking for weeks and now it's broken completely – look at him, he's no stronger than the others. He's broken and weak – just like everyone else.**_

"V-Veneziano?" she asks, hoping she's mistaken and this isn't her older brother sprawled on the kitchen floor, destroyed. But he flinches and looks up at her, and his crying becomes more violent.

"_Mi dispiace tanto, Sardegna... Sicilia...Ha a-appena... __H-ho accidentalmente...Mi dispiace..."_ he whispers hoarsely, but Sardinia can't understand what he's talking about.

_Sicily? What's happened? What's going on?_

_**Look. Look at your brother. Look at how broken he is. How destroyed. Now who caused that? Aren't they good? He deserves it really, you know...**_

_Shut up._

Sardinia scowls fiercely as she fights back the dark thoughts as he drapes heavily over her thinking. She doesn't have time to deal with him now. Soon the presence fades she is left again with a sobbing Veneziano, and she is somewhat frightened by it – she's never seen Veneziano truly cry before. Yes, she'd seen him start wailing over a mean comment or a rough hit or other trivial matter, but she'd never seen him truly cry from grief or pain. So she freezes, unable to think of a way to comfort him –it's always been the other way around, _fratello_ Veneziano laughing and smiling to cheer up his _sorellina_ – and not quite sure if she should run to get someone else.

She is saved from making a decision when San Marino comes rushing down the stairs, his face full of worry – after seeing his frowning for so long, it's almost nice to see the usual worried, over-protective Santo that she's used to.

"Sardinia, what's going on?" he asks. His voice is raised in urgency, but he's not shouting or snapping.

"I-I don't know... Veneziano..." Sardinia trails off and just points, and instantly San Marino is beside Veneziano and has gathered him into his arms. Sardinia watches stupidly for a moment as San Marino tries to comfort Veneziano and the younger just cries and clings desperately to his shirt, still trying to cry out incomprehensible sentences.

"Sardinia." Santo's voice is soft but firm "Go back to your room. And check that Seborga is still asleep."

Sardinia is all too happy to be able to turn away and run back up the stairs. She briefly peeks around Seborga's bedroom door as told, and finds him quite happily asleep and buried in blankets. She carefully closes the door and makes her way back to her own room.

It's still empty, but she simply dives under her covers, hoping to salvage the last scraps of warmth that may still linger there. She wonders briefly if she should try and go back to sleep, but she is too awake and her head buzzing with too many questions.

_What happened to Veneziano?_

_**Y'know, you're probably better off not knowing.**_

Sardinia doesn't try and push his away this time, but almost – almost, mind you – welcomes his presence.

_Hey Achille._

It's the first time in a long while that she's greeted him, especially by name. During the past few weeks he had been getting more and more persistent, and she found it harder to restrict him. But now he wasn't insistent and heavy and grinning with thoughts of mischief; he was just there, like he used to be.

Achille was Sardinia's second personality. He took the stress and grief and anger that Valeria couldn't handle and he dealt with it. When Valeria was younger, sometimes she's sit and 'talk' with Achille, and he'd talk to her when he took over. Soon though, the pain that was poured into his personality, the darkness that made him, made him harsh and hurtful. Now Valeria tried to repress him as much as possible, trying to turn him into what he had been at the start – just a dark voice with thoughts she could claim weren't hers.

_**Ah, playing nice are we now, bambina? **_She could practically hear the smirk in his voice – see it in her mind's eye. _**Funny, I thought you'd decided we were on bad terms.**_

_I never said that. _Valeria huffs and frowns. _You're just a dick._

_**Hey.**_ Achille growls at her. _**Be careful with your words. You know you're weaker than I am, I'm not afraid to trap you in here like you've trapped me.**_

Valeria resists the urge to snap back at him; she doesn't want to anger him. She doesn't like not being in control of her body, and she doesn't like watching as Achille acts in anger towards her family.

_**You do realise I know what you're thinking, right? **_Achille sighs. Valeria shivers slightly as she feels pressure behind her as he lies on the bed – she hates when she can feel him, as if he's actually there – and lays a hand on her arm. Valeria just lies, stock still. _** It's not **_**your**_** body. Sardinia is ours.**_

"I'm Sardinia! Not you!" Valeria hisses, knocking his arm off her. Achille frowns deeply, and snarls back.

_**Fine then. Be difficult. You'll have to face the consequences.**_

He disappears, locking himself away in the back of her mind, the place she usually traps and confines him, the place that has become 'his' – and that part of her mind, Valeria decides, that is not hers at all, and no thoughts from there can be associated with her own thinking.

Sardinia curls up and stares blankly ahead of her, retreating to absorb herself in thought. She doesn't notice that Seborga has carefully snuck into her room, and is now quietly edging closer. He glances up at Sicily's empty bedding, and creeps closer.

"Sardegna? Sardegna?" he asks, shaking his sister's shoulders slightly in an attempt to make her listen to him. A brief frown flitters across her face, as she senses Achille try to respond before her, before her eyes turn to him kindly and she smiles, just slightly.

"Ciao, Seborga. You okay?" she asks him.

"I... I thought I heard voices. And crying." He murmurs back.

"Hmm?" Sardinia pretends like she has no idea what he's talking about. "You were probably just dreaming, fratellino."

"Maybe..." Seborga shifts, not looking so sure. He looks over at Sicily's bed again. "Where's Sicily gone?"

Sardinia tenses slightly, but tries not to let it show.

"He must've woken up early. Actually, I thought I might've heard him get up in the night, so maybe he snuck off somewhere." She tries to brush off their brother's absence casually.

_**Remember what your dearest 'Feli' said; 'He just' what? What has your big brother done? Or what if that's not the case? What if it's Sicily who's done something to Veneziano? After all, he is always a bastard to you all; what reason does he have, I wonder...?**_

"S-Sorella?" Seborga looks a bit concerned when Sardinia manages to pull herself back up. She slowly relaxes her jaw from where she's been grinding her teeth to stop from retorting.

"It's okay, Pon. D'ya want to come and sleep with me for a bit?" Sardinia lifts the covers as an invitation, and Seborga gratefully crawls in with her.

Sardinia yawns a bit, and decides maybe she can drift off to sleep again, just for a little while...

~~::.::~~

Downstairs at breakfast, there is a tense silence. Vaticano keeps looking over at San Marino, obviously wanting an answer to something, but the eldest brother seems to be ignoring him, going on as one would normally. Sardinia keeps her head down and eats, occasionally glancing up, but mainly keeping to herself. Seborga is looking sadly and nervously at the empty spaces at the table.

There's three now. Romano has been gone for weeks; they all know that too well. But this morning there are two new empty seats – neither Veneziano nor Sicily has shown up.

Sardinia knows why Veneziano isn't downstairs eating with them. He'll still be upstairs, calming down from his hysterics earlier, and San Marino won't mention that at the table. He wants to keep it from Seborga, Sardinia knows that; that's why he wanted her to check he was asleep. But Sicily's absence... she can't explain that. Where could he have gone?

_**He's probably just run off. You know what a dick he is. Maybe he's just decided to abandon you all.**_

_Would you shut up? Sicily's grumpy, but he wouldn't do that..._

_**I don't care what you see in these pathetic excuses for brothers! They're all useless wastes of space, and they all deserve whatever suffering can be thrown at them.**_

_For what? Hmm? Why would they ever deserve __anything__ like this?_

_**Because they hurt you.**_

Achille's answer is so simple, so fast and sure, that Valeria is taken by surprise.

_W-what...?_

Sometimes she just doesn't understand him. Sometimes he seems to hate her, sometimes he just wants to make fun of her, but sometimes... he's so gentle, caring, sincere... But how...?

_**They hurt you. I hate them for that.**_

Sardinia has become a blank empty shell, hunched into herself and staring dully at the plate in front of her. Valeria pulls herself back into her mind, into the sort of blank room she creates within her imagination, the place where she can 'see' Achille. He's stood, staring calmly at her, his stance relaxed.

His tawny hair falls into his teal eyes and he just looks at her. He isn't grinning or smirking or sneering, nor growling or frowning or scowling – just looking. She can't help but just stare back. Is that why he'd been getting more violent towards her brothers?

_Why do you care that they've hurt me?_

Achille steps forward quickly and places a hand on her arm, making sure that his reply came across clearly.

_**Why wouldn't I? I care about you.**_

Valeria has never heard Achille be so sincere. In a way it makes her suspicious. Why should he care about her? He wants to take over her body and mind, doesn't he? He's just a voice in the back of her head, just a boy in her imagination; so how can he hate and care? At least, that's what she'd convinced herself. What if he wasn't as simple as that? Achille was complex. She couldn't deny that. He was unexplainable, unknown...

He was another person. He's someone completely separate from her, with his own thoughts and mind and personality, with his own identity. Yet at the same time they're still the same person. Valeria gives herself headaches over this thought process too much.

_I still don't understand..._

_**I don't want you hurt. I don't like it.**_

Valeria has stopped trying to think of responses to this information, instead just letting Achille talk. His eyes darken.

_**They've hurt you and now I'm going to hurt them back. You never deserved any off it, but they do. So I'm going to make sure-**_

_Stop!_

Valeria pushes Achille away from her. Of course. He's still the dark, twisted thing he was. She feels torn again. She doesn't know whether to love or hate him. She doesn't know if he's good or bad, if what he thinks is right or wrong, if what _she_ things is right or wrong... why must he confuse her so much?

_**The bastards should get it; they have it coming –**_

_No! No, no! Don't think about my brothers like that!_

_**You know you want it too sometimes.**_

_NO!_

Sardinia jumps up, startling her brothers by breaking the heavy silence with the clattering of plates as she bumps the table.

"Sardinia...?" Santo starts, but she cuts him off.

"No. Shut up." She mutters, but she's still staring at the table. Then she jolts, blinks, and stares at the three boys looking at her. "A-ah... dispiace..."

"Are you okay, Sardinia?" San Marino frowns worriedly at her, peering over the table to try and find any traces of ill health in her face. She nods, and shakily sits down, putting a palm to her forehead.

"Si..." she sighs, then looks up at San Marino. "Fratello, where's Sicily? I snapped at him last night and I wanted to apologise..."

Santo blanks a bit and his eyes blink nervously. Seborga looks up timidly too.

"And Veneziano... Veneziano isn't here either." He points out.

"Don't worry about it right now, Ponzio." The eldest tries to stop the conversation before it goes downhill, in an attempt to salvage a calm breakfast.

"Ma-"

"'Ma' nothing. Just eat your breakfast." Santo says firmly, and Seborga bows his head quietly and does as he's told. Sardinia wonders whether to try and push the matter, but decides that Santo will just get angry and that it's better to wait.

~~::.::~~

Sardinia walks over to her eldest brother, noticing Vaticano doing the same.

"Santo." He says quietly. "Will you tell me what the noise was about earlier? What's the matter with Veneziano?"

"Si." Sardinia agrees. "It's not like him. And I still don't know where Sicily has gone to."

San Marino sighs, obviously sensing that he's not going to be left alone until the two get their answers. He checks around; presumably making sure Seborga isn't there listening to them.

"Veneziano is really upset. Apparently, Sicily slept with him last night, he seemed upset. Then he said this morning, he woke up, only remembering that he'd had someone next to him before... he walked down into the kitchen and saw Sicily, leaning against the counter eating a tomato. And you know how much he and Romano look alike, especially when Sicily doesn't have his hat on..."

"So...?" Vaticano prompts, though from his tone he's probably guessing ahead. San Marino sighs deeply again, as if he doesn't want to say anything aloud.

"Veneziano... he was half-asleep, so he mistook Sicily for Romano... Then he blew up and stormed out. He hasn't come back since, and Feli's blamed himself for all of it."

"Oh dear..."

"Poor Veneziano!" Sardinia murmurs .

"And don't tell Seborga." Santo adds. "It'll upset him too."

The other siblings nod, neither wanting to upset their little brother. Vaticano turns away quietly and walks from the room. Sardinia stays, standing silently and staring at the floor.

"D'you think he'll come back, Santo?" she asks eventually, not raising her eyes to meet his.

"Of course he will." San Marino replies firmly. "They'll both come back, and then we can get back to normal. I promise you, Val."

_**Liar.**_

Sardinia nods without saying a word, and walks away. She can see the fierce burning in her brother's eyes that mean he's determined to do what he says. She knows he won't stop until he has all his brothers back with him, together. Not even if it's not the best thing for them.

_I wish this would all just stop... why can't we work this out peacefully?_

_**Because your brothers are all too selfish.**_

_And you're not? Leave me alone Achille._ The reply is half-hearted and tired.

_**You don't want that.**_

Sardinia sits quietly on her bed, curling her legs to her chest and hugging them. Achille is right. As much as sometimes she despises him, she can't imagine living without him. He's been with her for so long, he's a part of her. Without him she wouldn't be able to cope, she wouldn't have any escape, she would break. Achille was there to be strong for her.

_**You're upset – did they upset you?**_

Valeria sighs and pushes her face into her knees.

_No... yes... I don't know. Just..._

_**Tell me.**_

It's not a command and it's not sarcastic; it's gentle and inviting. Valeria almost hates that his constantly changing attitude makes it hard for her to hate him completely. Almost.

_I don't know what to do! I can't make up my mind. I want my brothers back, but I don't. I miss them, but I don't. I want to fix everything, but I don't. I want to hate them all but I love them so much. I'm so confused..._

_**It's alright, Valeria...**_

_And you! Sometimes you're absolutely horrid, you're an asshole, and you insult me and my family. So why don't I hate you? Why are you ever kind to me? Why do you care about me? What am I meant to do? I don't want to do this any more..._

_**Let me deal with it.**_ Achille says firmly. His hands rest on her shoulders, and he raises one briefly to stroke her hair away from her face. Her whole posture droops with melancholy emotion and exhaustion. He pushes her back, away from control, and steps into it himself.

_No..._

_**Valeria. **_Although his voice is more forceful, he's not being demanding.

Despite everything; despite wanting to keep herself in control, despite a lingering distrust for Achille, despite the raging confusion and conflict in her mind, Valeria steps back. She retreats to the furthest corner of her mind and shuts herself in.

~~::.::~~

It's late when Sardinia wakes herself up. She notices the time difference since she relinquished control to Achille, and panics for a moment.

_**It's okay.**_He mutters. _**I haven't done anything. I just let you rest. And I stayed away from your brothers. So don't worry.**_

Valeria pauses for a moment before replying.

_...Grazie._

_**You gotta learn to trust me a bit, yeah? **_Achille smirks, and Valeria smiles slightly in response.

Achille retreats, leaving Valeria feeling a lot more comfortable in her mind than she has in a while. She notices that hunger is starting to gnaw at her insides, and she swings her legs over the side of the bed to stand. As she pads down the stairs she glimpses into the front room; Veneziano is curled up with Seborga, talking and laughing softly occasionally, though she can see that his smile has become brittle and thin already. She bites her lip softly as she turns to go through to the kitchen and find some food.

She finds San Marino stirring a pot of Bolognese sauce, apparently making dinner. He glances up and smiles at her gently; reminding her that he is still her sweet, over-protective older brother, not just someone full of anger.

"Spaghetti alla Bolognese for dinner tonight." He tells her, and her stomach chooses that moment to grumble hungrily. Her older brother laughs. "Not too long, Val, don't worry."

Grinning sheepishly, Sardinia turns out of the kitchen and heads to the front porch; the evening is warm and she decides she wants to savour the last scraps of sun. She sighs happily as she relaxes back onto the bench and soaks up the warm rays.

_**Sicily still isn't back.**_

Valeria winces slightly at the reminder.

_Leave it, Achille. _She warns. She's feeling better than she has in weeks, and she doesn't want him to ruin it.

_**You're the one who cares, not me.**_ He mutters sourly. _**Honestly, he's run off over this one thing? It's an easy enough thing to do.**_

_Sicily is upset, just like the rest of us. _Valeria hisses, feeling irritation bubble up and send ripples to break her peace._ He's always been close to Romano. _

_**Che. You're better off without him here anyway; we'd be better off without any of them-**_

_Achille. Shut up. Just leave me alone._

_**You don't really want that.**_ Achille huffs.

Valeria doesn't respond, choosing to attempt ignoring the tension which has quickly built up between them. She doesn't yet try and force him away, so he stubbornly stays put, letting her stay aware of his presence.

At the faint sound of footsteps, Sardinia looks up, and gasps when she sees Sicily walking towards the house, hands in pockets, head down, a scowl on his face, but returning all the same. Quickly she jumps to her feet and runs to him.

"Sicily! Giovanni! You're back!" she cries happily, and moves to embrace him, but her brother pushes her away harshly and scowls at her. Although her brow creases slightly , she carries on. "Where've you been all day? I've been worrying."

"Che palle. Of course you have." He snaps back moodily. Sardinia's frown deepens at Sicily's cold attitude.

"What's the matter, Giovanni?" she asks, again trying to place an arm on Sicily's shoulder but having it shrugged off.

"What do you care?" Is the bad tempered growl she gets in response.

"You're my brother, Sicily! Of course I care." She tells him, but he just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

_**That bastard...**_

"Come on, you know you can tell me anything. Me, you, Corsica – us three, we can tell each other anything. Please, Sicily." Valeria pleads with her brother, trying to coax an answer out of him, but again his walls go up and block her, and he deflects her with sharp words.

"You've never cared before, why should you care now?" he asks her, sneering. "Why should I tell you? You have your own 'big' problems. You wouldn't _understand_, now, would you _sorellina_?" Valeria flinches and steps back from him, tears welling in her eyes.

Why wouldn't he talk to her? Had she done something that bad? Had she hurt him that much? His words stung her as he threw them in her face, mocking her, and inside her mind, Achille snapped.

"_**You bastard!" **_Achille roars, and in a flash of rage, Sardinia lashes out and slaps Sicily hard, with a loud smack, making the boy's head snap to the side.

Valeria blinks in shock as she stares at her brother, who has one hand raised to cradle his cheek, which is flaring red. Sicily's eyes were for a moment wide and shocked and hurt, before narrowing dangerously.

"Sic..." Valeria started, hoping to salvage her relationship with him, but he reacted violently.

"No! Fuck you, Sardinia! _Cagna, _even Vaticano wouldn't go that far! What is _wrong_ with you?" He yells angrily, flinching and withdrawing as she reaches out a hand – her right hand, the hand that has just left a mark on his face – to try and hold onto him, to keep him with her. In some ways, ways no one would understand unless they knew Sicily well, the comparison to their older brother hurt her deeply. Sicily hated Vaticano, hated and despised him.

"You were meant to be on my side." Sicily hisses, trying to sound vicious but letting too much betrayal into his tone, letting his true feelings be known.

"But it's not my fault!" Valeria cried, pulling him back as he tries to turn and run again. This time, instead of shying back and defending himself with cold, harsh words, he rounds on her.

"So who is it, huh? A little man inside your head?" He shouts viciously.

Valeria flounders. She can't tell Sicily about Achille, she can't tell anyone...

_**If he knew...**_ Achille grinds out, writhing angrily. _**If he knew I bet the bastard wouldn't even be sympathetic. Vita bassa bastardo...**_

"I... Sicily... it-"

_**He.**_ Achille reminds her harshly, still growling. Across from her, Sicily sneers cruelly.

"We're not _children _any more Sardinia." He tells her. "We're too old for _imaginary_ friends."

With that, Sicily turns on his heel and stalks into the house. Sardinia watches numbly as he storms up the stairs, barely acknowledged, except for Santo poking his head out of the kitchen.

"Sardinia, who just went upstairs?" he asks her.

"Sicily..." she muttered, and immediately San Marino perks up and dashes quickly to follow him.

_**He didn't even notice you were upset. He cares more about the idiot who ran away than you. **_Achille is getting more and more furious, and Valeria is scared that at any moment he's going to lose it like he did before.

_Achille-_

_**No. No, don't even TRY and stand up for them Valeria. They don't deserve it. I'm going to flay them I swear... **__**Se potessi mettere le mani su di loro... Bastardi cazzo...**_

Valeria can feel that he means it. He wants to claw his way into control and hurt her brothers as much as he can, and it scares her. If she's not careful, she knows he'll do something she'll regret, and she'll hate herself for letting it happen. So she can't let it happen. She won't let it happen.

She's so sure of it, she doesn't even question it. No wondering or debating, no conflict in her mind; she will _not_ let it happen.

So now all she has to do is stay away from her brothers.

~~::.::~~

For weeks Sardinia barely emerges from her room. She doesn't eat with her brothers, and she avoids them when she can. Sicily sleeps on the sofa downstairs now, leaving her all alone, but she is glad of that.

She doesn't trust herself anymore.

Achille is beyond angry; he is perpetually enraged. Every time Sardinia catches sight of one of her brothers, she feels him tense and struggle, growling threats and insults viciously. It's so hard to contain herself... to hold him back, to keep herself from giving in to him.

Despite this rage he's worked himself into, it seems he simply can't direct it at Valeria; in fact, he is nothing but sweet to her, although he has never apologised for being so violent towards her family.

_**They deserve it, the bastards. But you don't. You never have.**_

And yet again Valeria is thrown into torment; should she hate him or should she love him? He's cruel, he's quick-tempered, he lashes out and he is vicious, with a wicked tongue. But he's all of those things for her. He does it to protect her, because he cares about her.

...Right?

But no, he's sadistic and mean; he cares nothing for no-one. He exists purely so Sardinia can distance herself from dark thoughts that she wants desperately to believe are not hers. He is there to take the anger and hate and despair and keep it bottled and contained.

_Right?_

"I don't even know any more..." Valeria mutters to herself as she hugs her knees. "I don't know..."

_Do I still love my brothers, or do I truly want to hurt them?_

_Should I stay here, or get away?_

_Will anything ever get better?_

_Will I get better?_

_Who are you? Who am I? What are we? Truth or lies, one or two?_

_Do I hate you? Can I love you?_

_What should I do?_

"I don't know! I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..." Valeria cries into her knees, allowing herself to fall onto her side.

_**Just leave.**_ Achille murmurs gently into her ear. _**Just go away and leave them.**_

_But where would I go? Where..._

And then it hits her. Quickly, she sits up and grabs her notepad and pen from her bedside table, and quickly starts to scribble down the words as they come to her.

~~::.::~~

_Miei cari fratelli_

_I'm going away for a little while. Don't worry too much; I'm going to stay with Corsica. I can't say when exactly I'll be back, but... don't worry, va bene? I just need to get away and clear my head a bit. This whole... thing... that's happened, it's getting to be too much._

_I promise, I'll come back._

_Please don't try to get me to come back before I choose to._

_Amore, Sardegna_

~~::.::~~

_A/N: First off, __**OH MY GOD I'M SO FUCKING SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE ;A;**_

_I had the plan laid out, then I did some character development with Mouse, and then we got Achille, and the whole thing got like 10x more complicated ._._

_This the longest chapter so far, like 12 pages on word o_o_

_But I hope you've enjoyed it. Here we go for Sardinia's background info:_

**Sardinia: **Sardinia appears to be about 17, with shoulder-length auburn hair and a central curl. She can be very bi-polar (_we decided this because she's right in the centre, and we couldn't tell if she was north or south. Therefore we combined the 'happy' north and 'grumpy' south_) and has a second-personality, Achille, who has been around since the Italian unification (as a completely separate personality). She is closest to Corsica, her triplet brother who lives with France. Her human name is Valeria Vargas.

**Achille**: Achille is Sardinia's second personality. He has scruffy tawny hair and teal eyes. He is usually quite cruel and cutting, but has a genuine soft-spot for Valeria, becoming extremely attached to her and at some point falling in love with her. He is very jealous and protective of her because of this. At some point in the far future he splits entirely from Sardinia, becoming Achilles Karpusi, the Island of Crete.

_We character-developed the hell out of them xD_

_Also, Sardinia is obviously our most fucked up character, having a second personality who she ends up falling in love with. Yeah. Figure that out xD_

_Once again, __Red In The Morning__ has pointed out a rather important point I'd forgotten (I'm really bad with this...) – the Seborga we use is an OC. I am aware that there is a canon Seborga, but I'd never seen his character design before Mouse showed him to me after introducing me to her OC. He is BASED on canon Seborga, and indeed looks similar, but we've made him 10 years old instead of the apparent late-teen/adult canon Seborga apparently is._

_Mouse says: "__Oh, my Seborga is mostly younger and cuter cause, well, when I was introduced to the character I was not yet reading the comic strips and only knew him from fanarts and fiction where he is generally depicted as young. And then he was shown at the Hetaween strips. And I don't see a teenager or adult willingly dressing as a robot and hanging around preteens. Although when I actually write him hanging with other characters he is a lady killer. So it's kinda that I was attempting to be canon with the character but failed. Miserably."_

_To me he's a complete OC as I have next-to-no knowledge of canon!Seborga. But I like him as his cute little ten year old self ^^_

_But sorry for any confusion this has caused._

_THANK YOU TO MY MOST WONDERFUL REVIEWERS:_

_**Bluesoxrox, el18m, Red In The Morning, MakenshiCrona, Silan Haye, JulieBeilschmidt, XznTinoXD, **__ anon __**Nimaka, Wolfen Artist of Hetalia **__ and __**FiraKam**__!_

_Bluesoxrox: __Thank you! I'm so glad you like my writing style, and I hope this was good enough for the wait _

_MakenshiCrona__: I'm glad you like our OCs, Mouse and I spend many conversations developing them to make sure they're good. I hope you continue to enjoy this story :3_

_Silan Haye: __Hug him, he needs it the poor thing. I hope Sardinia's chapter and character has lived up to your expectations and sorry for making you wait for so long :)_

_XzNTinoXD: __I love that song so much! And yes, the title is similar to the song name~!_

_FiraKim:__ Funny you should say that xD We love a bit of Romano/Canada friendship, why shouldn't Sicily tag along too? xD I must say, I think they'd get on brilliantly._

_Well guys, next chapter is Vaticano, which is going to be really fun for me to write :P_

_Just to remind you, if you have any questions about the OCs, direct them to Mouse as the majority (with the exception of Vaticano) are hers. So if you love them, thank her! X3_

_Well, see you next time. Ciao~!_


	4. Vaticano: Hidebound

**Inside Italia**

_Romano is insecure._

_Sicily feels like he's living under everyone's shadow._

_Sardinia is torn between two personalities._

_Vaticano is still living in the Renaissance._

_San Marino can't let go of old grudges._

_Seborga can't do anything to stop his brother's fighting._

_Veneziano blames himself for all of it._

_Beneath the veil, the Italian family really isn't as happy and perfect as it seems..._

=X=

**Inside Italia  
>Vaticano - Hidebound<strong>

~~::.::~~

"_Piero! Lovino!"_

_Piero looked back at the call of his older brother, and beside him his twin brother did the same in perfect synchronisation. Santo was running over to them, his arm waving frantically to gain their attention._

"_Si, fratello?" Lovino asked as Santo stopped in front of them, panting slightly. The two waited patiently for an answer while the twelve-year-old regained his breath._

"_Nonno wants you to come back to the house, it's getting late and we'll be eating soon." He explained eventually, gesturing back to the way he'd come. The younger boys whined unhappily._

"_But Lovino was just about to show me a nice little place further in Roma." Piero complained, but Santo remained stern._

"_You know Nonno doesn't like you wandering too far without him." He reprimanded._

"_I know Roma well though!" Lovino argued back. "It'll only take a minute, I can find my way back fine!"_

"_Si!" Piero agreed. His brother had told him that he knew Roma as if it was part of his own body, like he'd always known it and had walked every street and plaza. Even their grandfather was starting to refer to him as his 'little Roman', or 'Romano' as the little triplets shortened it. "Per favore, Santo."_

_Santo looked at them for a moment, then sighed._

"_Va bene. But be back at the house in 10 minutes, understand?" he told them, and the twins nodded eagerly. With a small smile, Santo turned and started to navigate his way back to their grandfather's house, and Lovino turned to Piero with a grin._

"_Ready to go?" he asked, gesturing in the direction they had been heading. Piero nodded eagerly, as always excited to see a new place in the city that his brother thought was special. Lovino grabbed his brother's hand and started running, leading him through the crowded streets, and the sound of their laughter filled Piero's ears._

~~::.::~~

Vaticano groans as he awakes, carefully sitting himself up and stretching to coax the heaviness of sleep from his muscles. Recently he's been having more dreams of memories from his childhood – a lot of them involving Romano, and often the rest of his family too. He sighs as he stands up and crosses his room, intending to change into his robes for the day but pausing as he hears angry muttering outside his room. The voice, which he recognises eventually as San Marino's, is cursing up a storm to rival even Romano's foul mouth. He pulls open the door, glaring slightly at his older brother.

"San Marino, I expect you to know better than having a foul-mouthed tantrum." He reprimands. "What has got you so worked up, and so early in the morning? If you're not careful, you'll wake Sardinia." Vaticano gestures over to the next door, the room that Sardinia used to share with her triplet brothers.

Santo gives a low, furious curse under his breath. "No I won't. She's not here."

"What?" Vaticano frowns slightly, stepping further out of his room, looking over to the door of Sardinia's room and back at his brother. "What do you mean she's not here?"

"Look at this." Santo thrusts a note into his hands with another quiet curse. Vaticano reads it over a few times, then hands it back, and runs a hand through his hair. The household is down to five, with one sister run away and one brother captive, plus another brother who comes and goes daily.

"So she's gone to France's house..." he mutters, grimacing. Santo is once again growling annoyances, his hands balling into fists in agitation. France is one of the nations the eldest brother hates the most, along with Spain, and Vaticano can't claim to have any sort of liking for him either.

"We need to get her back. Both of them. We can't let them be taken from us!" San Marino growls urgently, and Vaticano recognises his desperate need to keep his siblings together. He sighs – it's been months since any of them saw Romano, almost a month since Sicily started disappearing every day, since Veneziano spent half of his days cuddling with Seborga and half locked up in his room, and throughout all of this San Marino has been agitated and on edge.

"Of course we must, San Marino." Vaticano agrees calmly. "And we will. But first, calm yourself – we need to tell our fratellini. No doubt this is going to upset Seborga, and Veneziano."

"Ugh, cazzo. Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo!" San Marino runs a hand roughly through his hair and clenches his fists again. "Everything's going to hell."

"San Marino!" Vaticano hisses, shooting his brother a sharp glare. "Watch your mouth!"

"Dispiace, Piero." He mutters.

"You're all hopeless." Vaticano scolds him. "You're all foul-mouthed and blasphemous."

"We could be worse." Santo shrugs, and Vaticano is somewhat affronted at how lightly he seems to take it. Then again, none of his brothers are at level with him on his opinions on religion and the degree of seriousness it should be taken at. In recent years especially they have all loosened up far more than Vaticano approves of.

"Let's just hope you haven't woken the others." He mutters lowly, retreating back into his room. "You will have to figure out a way to tell them. I'm going to go and get ready, I'm going down to church."

He doesn't wait to see if Santo is going to make any sort of retort, instead shutting his door and going to get ready for Mass.

~~::.::~~

_Piero smiled gently as he let his eyes take in all the familiar, beautiful details of his church, St Peter's Basilica. He loved coming to the church, its beautiful design breathtaking as it always had been, always leaving him in awe, and the wonderful feeling of peace he always left with filling his chest. He remembered the first time he'd stepped foot inside the church. He had been with Santo and his brother, and the older boy was showing them around Roma. It was after that visit he'd been given his name – Piero, like Petrus, the name given to the disciple Simon by Jesus._

_Mass had finished and most of the crowd had dissipated out onto the streets, but Piero stayed behind, just for a while. He always felt most comfortable in the quiet of this church, like it was a second home for him. Being able to sit in the pews amongst the people of Roma – or, this small section of it – and listen to the readings of the scripture was a haven to him, and it didn't matter to him that he knew it all by heart already, because hearing the words spoken by another, feeling the faith he shared with those who surrounded him, that was what made his heart swell._

_The angle of the colours adorning the floor from the stained glass windows had been subtly changing throughout the time Piero had been sat in the church, and now he recognised that they were signalling to him that it was getting to the time he'd have to leave. With a last quiet prayer and a final glance back, Piero left the cool, quiet confines of St Peter's Basilica and stepped out onto the hot, busy streets of Roma._

~~::.::~~

"_Pontificio!"_

_Stato Pontificio turned to see 17-year-old Romano waving at him as he emerged through the crowds._

"_You should really call me Piero, Romano." He noted as his brother approached him. Romano gave him a smirk._

"_Yeah, yeah, and you should call me Lovino or Naples. But who knows how many Pieros there could be in this crowd? There's only one Stato Pontificio." He replied offhandedly. He tugged on Piero's sleeve to start him walking, and the two quickly fell into step with each other._

"_So, your new church looks like it's going well." Romano eventually said. "Pity they had to knock down the old one and rebuild it. You loved that place."_

"_Si." Piero nodded. "But it was falling into disrepair. This new church will stand for longer. It's still mi Basilica di San Pietro, just newer."_

"_Hmm." Romano nodded absentmindedly. "How's Roma been doing? You spend more time in her than I do."_

_Piero looked over at his brother. Lovino was looking wistfully around at the streets and plazas, almost longingly. Despite representing the Kingdom of Naples, he wasn't often in his own country for very long. He stayed at Spain's house, as he had to, but sometimes he had to come back to check on his country, although Spain wasn't often very far behind. It had been a long time since the twin brothers had walked through the streets of Roma together._

"_She's doing well. Although, recently, there has been a slight increase in trials..." Piero's eyes wandered over to a far corner of the plaza they were crossing through, where a group of condemned men waited in front of a row of nooses. Romano's gaze followed his, and his eyes narrowed slightly._

"_Really? So crime is going up..." he muttered. _

"_Not so much crimes like thieving and murder." Stato Pontificio grimaced slightly as he continued. "There's been a rise of citizens accused of sodomy."_

_Lovino stopped in his tracks, blinking and staring over again at the men waiting to meet their fate._

"_It's a disgrace really, to see how many men have turned from the law of the Lord Our God and commit such horrendous acts with other men."_

"_S-si..." Lovino agreed under his breath. Piero looked closely at him. His brother was still staring across the plaza, his eyes widened, his lips parted and turned down slightly in despair or worry. The emotion that shimmered over his eyes was one Piero could not name, but it was soon lost as he closed his eyes and shook his head, turning back to his brother. "To think that people would go against our Lord in such a way..."_

"_If they turn away from God and choose to damn themselves to Hell instead, what more can we do if they do not ask for forgiveness?" Piero sighed. "Perhaps if they truly repent, then they will be forgiven. But only God can do that."_

"_Si." Lovino replied quickly, turning to continue walking. Piero followed, barely noticing how his brother had sped up their pace to try and cross the plaza as fast as possible. Silence fell over them for the rest of their journey back to their Nonno's old house, and Piero caught Romano flinching as they heard the hatches open and the rope of the nooses tighten, and the cheer of the crowd at the execution._

~~::.::~~

When he looks back, Vaticano can identify that emotion that flickered across Romano's face. Fear, guilt and hurt, all mixed together and barely concealed. How had he not noticed that at first? How Romano had become nervous and then defensive, how he always had whenever _that subject_ had come up ever since, how since that time Romano became colder and colder towards him. Yet he'd never made the link, not for a long time.

This is the same plaza, but now it's so different. The buildings surrounding it look older, like they are bound to do after a few centuries, and there are modern additions. The weather is far colder – it's approaching winter now, so the sun is not quite as hot as it is mid-summer. The people look different, talk different, act different to how Vaticano remembers they used to.

He sees two young men, perhaps in their mid twenties, talking together and laughing as they walk. One reaches over and takes the other's hand, entwining their fingers. He smiles as his companion mutters something to him, shaking his head, before he leans over and places a quick kiss to his temple. The other man chuckles and manages to quickly capture his lips with his own.

Vaticano scowls deeply and looks away. To do something so unnatural and wrong so publicly and shamelessly was a disgrace. It went against the word of God. Yet these people will not be punished for it, but instead encouraged and allowed to continue.

There has been so much change in recent years. He thinks it must have started when the Papal States had slowly started to disappear after 1861 and the Italian Unification. During the years from 1870 until 1929 Vaticano had been locked up in the Vatican with the Pope, and he had never left the Basilica until the Lateran Treaty had once again made him his own independent state, and even before and after then he spent most of his time in his own city. For the longest time he had shut himself away from his brothers and the rest of the world inside the walls of his Church, his safe haven and home.

And now, when he walks the streets of the city he's known since he and his brother were first born, this city that had always been their home, their Roma, he doesn't recognise it. He doesn't recognise the world. It seems like there's a huge gap between where he is and where everyone else is – like he's so far from the place he knows and he's been thrown somewhere different and foreign, where what he thinks is right or wrong is the polar opposite from everyone else's opinion.

It's a different world now, and it's not Vaticano's world.

~~::.::~~

_Piero watched as Lovino chased a giggling Giovanni. Leonardo was curled up with Valeria, and flinched every time the pair ran past them, making his sister shout after them to be careful. Feliciano was helping tiny Ponzio paint, which the younger child was delighting in, even if he was getting a bit messy._

"_Lovino, you should know already you shouldn't run around inside. Feliciano, try and make sure Ponzio doesn't get too much paint all over himself." Santo reprimanded gently as he walked in, but he was smiling all the same._

"_Veh~, dispiace Santo." Feliciano apologised, and started wiping off Ponzio's hands with a piece of cloth. Ponzio reached out and touched Feliciano's face with one paint-covered hand while the other was being cleaned, giggling at the hand-print left on his older brother's face._

"_You're a spoil-sport Santo!" Lovino called, sticking out his tongue as he caught Giovanni and lifted him up to stop him running, though his legs wheeled in the air for a few moments._

"_Si! Spoilsport Santo." Giovanni repeated, copying Lovino and sticking out his tongue. Piero shook his head at his little brother's antics._

"_Now, don't be naughty Gio. Nonno's almost finished with the pasta, so we'll be going to eat soon, and you don't want to have to miss out, do you?" Santo, being the oldest, was very much used to dealing with the little children, and Piero was starting to learn too._

"_Noo~ that'd be horrible, Gio!" Feliciano cried. "Nonno's pasta is the best!"_

"_Nonno wouldn't do that." Giovanni pouted, though his eyes held uncertainty. Piero stood to take him from Lovino's arms and set him down on the floor, and looked sternly but kindly down at him._

"_You don't want to be naughty and find out though, do you?" he asked, and the little boy pouted a bit more and shook his head. Piero smiled and ruffled his hair. "Then behave for a while."_

_Giovanni muttered something under his breath quietly, but walked over to sit by Leonardo and Valeria, and was soon smiling happily again as he talked and played with his siblings. Lovino stood beside Piero, grinning._

"_I remember when Santo used to do that to us." He said. Piero huffed, turning to look at Lovino with a raised eyebrow._

"_To _you_, fratello." He corrected. Lovino rolled his eyes._

"_Blah blah, I get it, Signor Perfetto." He teased back. Piero nudged him, and Lovino retaliated with a chuckle, before pausing for a moment. "I'm glad we came with Santo." He said eventually._

"_Si." Piero agreed. "It's nice here, with Nonno and i nostri fratelli."_

_Lovino made a small noise of agreement then wrapped his arms around Piero's shoulders, smiling slightly. "After so long, who would have thought someone would take us in? Who would have thought we'd find others like us? Who would have thought we'd get to be part of a happy family? I certainly wouldn't have."_

"_But we do, mi gemello. We have Nonno, and Santo, and Feli, and the triplets, and Ponzio." Piero smiled over at him. "I'm happy here."_

"_Si. I am too." Lovino nodded. "Cos__í__ molto felici."_

_From the kitchen, the call for dinner was heard. Santo scooped up little Ponzio, who was cooing 'pasta' in imitation of Feliciano. The triplets jumped up eagerly, Giovanni running ahead shouting "I've been good, Nonno, promessa!" even as Santo reminded him again about running. Lovino laughed and pulled on his brother's wrist._

"_Come on Piero, I'll race you!" he grinned, and sped past Santo, who shouted again. Piero shook his head, laughed, and followed – his older brother was now crying exasperatedly to their Nonno in hopes he would help control the unruly brothers – easily catching up to Lovino and running beside him._

_Piero prayed that maybe, they could stay like this forever._

~~::.::~~

The house was far quieter than Vaticano could ever remember it being before. Usually it would be loud with Seborga's playful shouts and Veneziano's happy laughs, Sicily's grumbling complaints and Sardinia's joking comebacks, his and Romano's stubborn arguing and San Marino's attempts to calm them all down. Now, he had no-one to argue with, Sicily wasn't here to complain, nor was Sardinia here to try and cheer him up, Seborga's seemingly boundless energy was subdued and Veneziano was near silent. San Marino had plenty to complain about, but today he didn't – he sat, sometimes scowling, but recently he'd put on a much softer expression, for their little brothers.

There hadn't always been this much anger or upset in the family. It had been a long time, but there had been better times; times when he was close to his twin, times when even Sicily had a perpetual, genuine smile on his face. Back before they had been fully fledged countries, when they were just Santo and Piero and Lovino, with little Feliciano and Giovanni and Valeria and Leonardo, and even the tiny Ponzio. When they would play in their Nonno Roma's huge house, and the biggest argument was about which type of pasta was the best (Piero had always stood by the capellini) or who should sleep where for their siesta.

Vaticano will never admit it aloud, but he misses the occasions when he and Romano would sit together, and he'd read the story of Joseph and his brothers, of Daniel and the lion's den, of David and Goliath, and Romano would listen intently, and in return he would get to see his brother's most favourite places in Rome. He and Romano had been near inseparable – and then, they had been separated.

Piero shakes himself to clear the unwanted nostalgia. What did he care for a brother who left him alone for hundreds of years and came back cold and hating? His God was always with him, and his God would love him for as long as he followed His rules. Piero keeps to that belief firmly as he always has.

The sudden sound of the doorbell breaks the silence, startling all four of the remaining brothers. Feliciano jumps up immediately.

"Oh, that's for me." He chirps, voice too high and face too nervous . "I'll be back for dinner, I promise."

"Feli!" Seborga cries unhappily, realising he's about to lose his favourite source of comfort. Veneziano pauses to stroke his hair and kiss the top of his head.

"I'll be back. Promessa." He says gently. Santo stands up to follow him out into the hall, and Vaticano watches.

"Who is it, Venezia?" Santo asks lowly. The younger brother has already edged into the hallway and is slipping away towards the door.

"Only Germany. Ciao, fratelli." And with that, Feliciano springs through the door and leaves. Santo storms over and opens the door again, but their brother and the German nation are already in the car and starting to drive off. Santo yells angrily after them.

Vaticano frowns. For Veneziano to be going off for days with Germany was not uncommon, and was becoming increasingly more frequent. His younger brother has always been close to the German – too close, Vaticano thinks, like Romano has always been too close to Spain. And Romano has been led astray, lured and tempted by the older Spanish nation, and lost himself in darkness and sin, and gotten himself in so deep he no longer wishes for a rescue, no longer thinks it is needed, no longer thinks he is wrong.

Was Veneziano wandering down that path, starting to become lost like his brother? It had happened before, but Vaticano was sure his brother recovered his senses after that.

"He's getting too close to that bastard." Santo growls as he re-enters the room, and Vaticano nods in agreement. Veneziano _is_ getting too close to Germany.

Seborga is now hovering timidly, looking slightly lost. Santo, noticing this, quickly softens and swoops over to scoop up the youngest brother and carry him through to the kitchen so he can help make lunch for the three of them. Vaticano sighs heavily, and settles down to his scriptures.

At least the heavy silence was good for something.

Hopefully, Piero prays, things will not stay this way forever...

~~::.::~~

_A/N: HA. HA._

_FUCK._

_FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK._

_I'M SO SORRY. I'M SO SO SO SO SOOOOOOOOO SORRY! /millions and millions of apologies._

_I got really stuck writing this chapter, trying to make Vaticano a good character that you could still feel for and empathise with and shit. _

_I actually really love Vaticano, he's slowly grown on me xD_

_I really hope no-one is offended by him, as I know he's bound to be a pretty controversial character. One of the whole points of his character is that he's still very stuck in the Renaissance mindset – religion was the law, homosexuality and such were horrendous sins, and he believes everything should be taken extremely seriously. So he's not meant to reflect modern Christians or their attitudes to things such as homosexuality – his views are views from hundreds of years ago._

_Here's your extra info on him:_

**Vaticano: **Vaticano appears about 22, and is Romano's identical twin brother. He is quiet, reserved and formal, but can be as mean as any of his brother's. When Romano, Sicily and Veneziano were taken away by Spain and Austria, Vaticano shut himself away with his Church, as a way of coping with separation from his twin, who he was very close to, and the rest of his family. This caused his alienation from the changes in the world and leaves him feeling lost in the modern world. His human name is Piero Vargas.

_I need to write up some good, deep detailing for Vaticano. His story is quite sad, actually. For a few hundred years the only thing Romano and Vaticano had were each other, before San Marino found them and took them back with him to Rome, where they gained a happy family, which lasted until Rome died and Romano, as well as most of the rest of his family, were taken away, leaving him completely alone – something he had never had to experience before. Already being the representation of the growing Christian population, Vaticano turned to his faith to help and guide him, only to become so absorbed in it that he isolated himself._

_See? It's sad. Poor little Vaticano._

_I need to give a thank you to my dearest __**Mouse**__, who owns most of these OCs (apart from, ironically, Vaticano), and helped me finally get this chapter done. With the first version I got stuck and then I had exams and shit stressing me out, so it wasn't going very well, then she suggested the whole 'contrasting scenes' thing you see here, the 'how Vaticano remembers it/how it is now' structure, and without it I don't think I'd have managed to do this any time soon, so __**GRAZIE, CARA MIA~.**_

_And I need to give an even __**BIGGER**__ thank you, and lots of love love love, to my wonderful reviewers: __**el18m, Bluesoxrox, Mystic Dewdrop, MakenshiCrona **__and __**anon.**_

_I'm so glad you all like mine and Mouse's OCs, we try very hard to make sure we flesh them out properly, and I hope I've succeeded in doing that with Vaticano too. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, I'm so desperately sorry for it taking so long, and for it being shorter than the previous two (ironic how Vaticano and Romano's chapters are the same length? xD) and I hope that next chapter won't take so long!_

_Reviews are so very much appreciated, and as you can see I have anon reviews turned on, BUT YA DON'T NEED TO BE SHY~~ ;D So I hope I get reviews so I know people haven't forgotten about this after the month or more I didn't update ;w;_

Translations:

Roma – Rome (I use this to refer to the city, just in case I need to distinguish from Grandpa Rome)

Fratellini – Little brothers

Cazzo – Fuck

Stato Ponificio – Papal States

Signor Perfetto – Mr. Perfect

I nostri fratelli – Our brothers

Mi gemello – My twin

Cosí molto felici – So very happy

Promessa – Promise

_Piero/Petrus – Peter (I used the Latin since the services at that time would be in Latin)_

_Capellini – 'Angel's Hair' pasta (I hope it's obvious why this is here xD)_

_And hopefully you know the other stuff because it's basic and it pops up all over Italy brother fics xD_

_Okay, ciao~!_


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